How should I start? I am a simple man and I like to get to the point quickly.
Simply told, when I was young I was a loser. I saw no reason to live. I felt no love
from my parents or my older sister. I know they loved me, but at that time, they did
not know how to show it. Everything I did was wrong and not good enough for my
father. If I succeeded nine times out of ten, he focused on the one unsuccessful
attempt. I had to run away from the reality to protect my self-esteem. Fantasy books
and RPG computer games were only place that gave me hope for a better life.
Myhopes were to live the life of a hero, which I always wanted to be. I was desperate at
that time and I felt my life had no value.
As I grew old I found out that there are many children with the same feelings
about their value and many of them tried suicide. Luckily most of them failed and
within many years they became successful people once they decided to prove their
value to the world. Determination and discipline is the key to their success. It is a
hard decision to do whatever it takes to succeed, but it is worth.
When I am looking back, my life changed precisely at one point. It was almost
forgotten in my memory, but I found it for you. During one incident where I knew I
should behave like hero to protect my friend I was held back by my fear and did
nothing to help her. That day I made a decision which changed my life. Look for such
decision points in your life if you are not satisfied with who you are.
When I was thinking about this book I never wanted to write about myself as I
like my privacy. I was born in communist Czechoslovakia in 1981 and I was taught it
is not good to stick out of the crowd and draw attention to you. But after some serious
thinking I realized that writing my story can help other people with low self-esteem to
increase it and to avoid some of the mistakes I made. I was a regular loser bullied by
schoolmates when I was a kid and I was so desperate I tried to commit suicide twice.
I am happy now that I was not successful and it is likely that I was simply trying to
draw attention to how miserable and depressed I was by faking my suicide. Kids do
that sometimes if they are desperate. I also ran away from home two or three times,
but hunger and cold usually brought me back during the night. It happened when I
was seven to ten years old.
I was born as a second child to an economist and a nurse. My birth was
problematic as I got infected and my amniotic fluid was too dark. However, I survived
and I was more or less healthy. When I came home, my little sister awaited me there.
I was told later, that she was so jealous of all the attention I took from her when I was
brought home, that she came to my cradle and slapped me to show her frustration.
I love her now and we respect each other, but most of the time we hated each other as
I don't remember much of my youth until I went to grammar school, but my life
was probably good. I just have flashes of memories as my parents were taking us
bobsledding in kindergarten and we had lots of fun.
My father and mother loved small kids and I remember that life was one big fun adventure. When I fell down or managed to hit myself, all I needed to do was start crying and the protective hands of
father or mother came to the rescue. Life was a miracle. When I was hungry, I started
to cry and food came to me. When I pooped, I started to cry and my diaper was
changed. Life of a small child is usually like a fairy-tale — fun and adventure.
And lots of crying, too.
Kindergarten was great place to be for me. We played a lot and only thing I
hated was we had to sleep after lunch even when we did not want to. Those naps
were deadly boring. Otherwise it was alright.
Once we were exercising by pretending to be the cats drinking milk from the
floor. I wanted to be the best cat, so I played without pretending and licked the carpet
lying on the floor as if it was milk. It tasted more like a pee, but I kept going. And yes,
I was the best cat! It was fun.
Then, the fun was over and I got jaundice and they sent me to the hospital for
two weeks. It was like prison for me, locked behind the bars of the hospital with other
kids. I could see my parents only through the bars on the window. I cried a lot and I
was subject to needles and infusions each day. That is the reason why I started to
hate needles for a long time. Lesson learned: Don’t lick the carpet if it tastes strange.
After returning home I became a very obedient kid so that I would never ever
have to go to the hospital again. A child without his parents feels lost and completely
alone. My father was great and he jumped the fence, which was dividing outsiders
from the patients inside the building and the patients inside, to get in touch with me.
Thank you dad.
I was very talkative and curious when I was younger, but soon my parents
grew tired of this, so they forbade me to ask and ask and ask. I stopped talking and
asking questions and became a quiet and sensitive person; the right target for
bullies. After kindergarten elementary school came...